“But I saw you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You were sick.” He frowns, “You looked so tired. You didn’t drink at dinner. You're eating so much.”
Jesus, there’s a list?
“I was sick because my recipe went wrong; I didn’t drink because I didn’t want to get carried away with what turned out to be a great night. I eat a lot because I spent four years not eating what I wanted to eat,” I grab his t-shirt, frustrated that he let himself stew on this paranoia, instead of talking to me, “I’m tired because I can't sleep.”
“But I saw you at the hospital and I didn’t use anything that night-”
“I didn’t know you were there.” I interrupt, “If you’d have spoken to me at the hospital I would have told you I was there for my contraception injection. You’ve been sitting on this since Monday?”
He climbs up off the floor and I’m left looking up as he towers over me.
“I have to go,” he says, “I'm supposed to be at the site.”
“Bullshit. You’re running.” I get up quickly and follow him to the door, “You’re pissed at me and you’re running. You already text to say you won't be there.”
Deacon stops at the door and turns to face me. The look tears me apart; I don't know why he’s reacting like this. He assumed the non-existent foetus was Kip’s. Why would he be angry that there is no pregnancy?
“Don't let the ice cream melt.” He leans down and kisses my forehead, holding his lips to my skin for long enough to leave me feeling giddy when he frees me, “Bye.”
He turns and leaves, and I don't follow him; I know I’m not supposed to. Why did that feel like goodbye?
~
“You know Mum will kill you.” Jonas says, leaning in the doorway of my bedroom.
I pull clothes out of my wardrobe, fling the hangers across my room and shove the garments in my weekend bag.
“I’ll be back,” I promise, “I have to go to and get some stuff sorted.”
“Bullshit.”
“Don't call bullshit when you have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I zip up my bag, grab my toiletry bag and push past him, running down the stairs and grabbing my keys off of the ‘home is where the heart is’ key hook. One look back sees Jonas standing cross-armed at the top of the stairs, and my dad’s shocked expression as he walks in the back door. He nods, letting me know he understands, and I leave.
~
“I need a friend.” I hold up our favourite DVD, two bottles of rose and a pack of Maltesers when Carl opens the door to his house.
“And do you know why you chose me?”
He steps aside and lets me in, and I wave to Anthony who’s curled on the sofa wrapped in a blanket and nursing a very obvious bout of man flu.
“Why did I choose you?”
“Because I’m the coleslaw king of the world!” He throws his arms in celebration, spins on the spot and grabs ‘Never Been Kissed’ off me before I have a chance to remember what that means.
I laugh as I kiss Anthony on the head and slide the box of tissues closer to him as he reaches for them.
“What’s with the surprise visit?” Ant asks between splutters.
“Well every girl needs a gay best friend. I have been blessed with two and I need you.”
“Check you out, getting all soppy.” Carl joins me and hands me a spoon to share his Phish Food with him. Just what I need, “What happened?”
“He thought I was pregnant. Panicked in case it was his, but assumed it was Kip’s... I’m not pregnant!” I reassure them, because if looks could kill I’d be in the morgue, “And then he went all spaced-out-sex-monster on me. I managed to calm him down and tell him he’d got it wrong. Then he up and left. Again.”
“Honey.”
“Don't,” I put my hand up and grab a spoonful of ice cream, “not until I’ve had half of this tub and copious amounts of Blossom Hill.”
I’m soon tipsy from the wine, full of ice cream and chocolate, and reciting every line of my all time favourite movie.
“Hey, Merkin ain't jerkin', he's workin'” I repeat when the credits come up at the end and giggle.
Anthony left halfway through to go to bed, because we couldn't hear above his coughing and sneezing.
“Seriously, Jen. Are you okay?”
I follow Carl through the house to the back garden, grabbing his jumper off the back of his kitchen stool on the way. I pull it over my head as we sit on one of the steps on the decking and Carl lights up a cigarette.
“Yeah, I’m not a victim. It’s just hard to deal with.” I lay my head back and look to the stars, “He’s all I have ever wanted. I know I’ll never feel this way again and things have been incredible. To the point where I was just going to do what needed to be done to stop being the guilty party. But now? How can we go any further than this if he won't talk to me, and runs when I tell him something he doesn’t like?”
“But isn’t that what you’ve done by coming here? I’m glad you're here and all, but won't he notice you’re gone?”
I hadn’t thought about that. I ran before and he didn’t chase me, I didn’t want him to. And I don't this time. I don't think.
“I just had to get out of town to clear my head.” I look down at my watch, “I should call a cab.”
“Stay here.” Carl flicks his ash into a plant pot at the bottom of the steps, “We can make up the spare room, and you can-”
Carl stops talking when he hears Anthony step out onto the decking, and we turn around to see him approaching us, wrapped in an old teal dressing gown. He hands me my phone.
“It keeps ringing. As soon as it stops it starts again.”
He gives my shoulder a squeeze, kisses Carl goodnight again and heads back to bed.
“Is it him?” Carl asks as I scroll through the eight missed calls. I nod, “Answer.”
“It’s rude.”
“No it’s not. I plan to listen in.”
I scoff, but tap the screen to connect the call.
“Deac.”
“You ran!” He shouts, and I know he’s pacing. I can hear his heavy work boots on the floor, “You fed me the bullshit about walking away and you jump in your car and get a hundred miles away from me.”
“I didn’t run.” I lie, “I came to see my friends, and terminate my tenancy. You left. You halted any plans I had for a conversation.”
“Jen you ran! You thought I did, so why not even up the score?”
“Don't start, Deac. What the hell did I say to make you walk out anyway? You wanted me to be pregnant with another man’s baby?” I notice Carl stub out his cigarette and stand up. He kisses the top of my head and goes inside. I instantly hear the kettle spring to life.
“Obviously not.” He growls.
“What then?”
“I don't know, Jen! I was confused. I didn’t lie, I went to the site; I've only just got in. Went to your parents to talk to you. Your mum’s going crazy, your dad’s trying to convince her you’ll be back, although we’re all wondering if you will be.”
Of course they are. I did run again, and I knew my mother would go out of her mind. But I had to leave; I was terrified it was over for Deacon and me again. After over five years of being apart and growing as individuals, we found each other again. How many people can say they left their love and returned to find every feeling intensified? We had a second chance and I thought we’d blown it. So I left.
“I really did just come to see my friends.”
“Can we talk about it?” I hear the tell tale his off a cap being taken off a bottle.
“Now? You want to talk about it now?” I ask, accepting a cup of tea from Carl.
I give him an apologetic smile but his grin tells me he’s secretly enjoying this. I wonder what his neighbours think. Everyone is on top of each other here; it’s why I didn’t like the city when I first came here as a freshman. But it’s why I loved it when I moved back here a broken senior; there were
so many people everywhere, that me and my problems didn’t stand out. No one ever questioned why I stopped going to parties, stopped hanging out with our old friends. I just got lost in the crowd.
“No, Jenna. I thought we’d wait another five fucking years to have an honest conversation.”
“I’m not talking to you about anything when you're behaving like a child. I will be home because I’ve got a business to try and set up.”
I hang up and it’s a conscious effort not to throw my phone across the garden. A text comes through straight away and I open up the message:
‘Promise me you’ll come home?’
‘I promise.’
I reply. I blow the steam off my cup, take a sip, and join Carl in the living room.
~
“You really want to terminate?” My landlord asks.
I managed to arrange a meeting with him last minute, and we’re at the flat, sipping on coffee and waiting, nervously on my part, to see what his terms of getting out early are.
“Yeah.” I answer, caressing my mug, “I know it’s inconvenient, but I’ve had to move away for business and I won't be back here enough to warrant renting a flat.”
Pierre, my French-native landlord looks around the kitchen and must believe me, judging by the state of the place and the thick layer of dust coating every surface. I haven’t even been in my room yet; I came straight from Carl’s to meet Pierre.
“Okay.” He says waving his hand in the air as he thinks, “So were on may seventeenth today. I’ve got this month’s rent. Just give me June and we’ll call it quits, yes? I can find new tenants by then.”
“Deal. Thank you.”
Pierre leaves after we both sign my revised contract and I head out to see Abbie. I know for a fact there is nothing in that room that I want to take with me. I make a mental note to let Kip know he can take whatever he wants from the room, Carl and Abbie too.
“Hey stranger.” I call as I walk in the shop, and Abbie beams over the counter at me.
It’s quiet; the lunch time rush has finished and I see the three girls in the back baking away for the home time rush. I didn’t intend on checking the place out, but I instantly notice they’ve kept it clean, and they have kept everything as uniform as always.
“Hey, this is a surprise,” I raise my eyebrows at her, “Okay, so it’s not. Carl said you stayed at his, I’m upset you didn’t call me.”
“Didn’t call anyone. Just drove and ended up at Carl’s. Sorry.”
I know they’ll fill her in on everything anyway. I gave Carl permission to tell Abbie and Ant everything he thought necessary so that everyone knew everything. Carl loves to gossip, and I didn’t want to tell the story three times. It was a perfect arrangement, really.
“You know he’s totally into you, right?” Abbie says as I lift the bar hatch and climb behind the counter.
“Sometimes it’s not enough.”
“Excuse me? Have you seen the man in question? I could live a life time off his looks and never need anything. Ever.”
I laugh, “It’s better when you know the man inside.”
“So what’s the problem?” Abbie hands me the ring binder of paperwork as we sit down in the office.
“Because I know the man inside.” I confess, “Maybe it’s possible to be too close to someone.”
Abbie shrugs, obviously not agreeing with me, and concentrates on flicking through cash up receipts and orders that need processing.
It’s getting dark by the time we leave the shop, and I’ve agreed to go for dinner with the group, before I head back. I’m thinking I might surprise Kip, and go back with him in time for dinner tomorrow night.
Abbie and I catch a cab to the Thai restaurant and Carl and Anthony are already there.
“So when are you going home?” Ant asks, as I shrug out of my jacket and sit down.
“I thought I might surprise Kip. He’s coming down tomorrow, wants to have a fancy dinner to celebrate his bonus. So I thought I might just drive him down in the morning and ten he can get the train back.”
“So after yesterday, you’re not going to go home until the man your deeply in love with who thought you were pregnant, won't be able to speak to you until the man he despises and sees as competition has gone home? The man you’re technically committed to, even though your heart is somewhere else.”
Shit. I hadn’t thought of that. Deacon is supposed to be at the dinner tomorrow too, which means I have to go and talk to him before tomorrow night; which, Anthony is right, I can't do if Kip is there.
“I say,” Abbie says, perusing the menu, “That we eat fast and you drive home faster. Go spend the evening with Adonis. Would it be weird if I tattooed his face on me somewhere?”
“Yes.” I narrow my eyes, hoping she’s joking, “Sounds like a plan though. I’ve got to sort my shit out.”
“Sweet cheeks,” Carl hugs me, “you’re young. And it only happens once. Make a few mistakes and get over it.”
Jade said something like that, when we went for coffee. I get why people are saying it, but how are you supposed to have fun, when the man who you want to spend the rest of your life with is part of the game? It doesn’t bode well for a happy ending and I know I’m pushing my luck.
“Why don't you just call it off with Kip?” Ant asks, sipping his coke. His flu seems to have cleared up.
“Let me set the record straight before my only group of friends also think I’m a whore.” They laugh, but I’m dead serious, “I’m not simultaneously sleeping with two men. Nor do I plan to. I like Kip, I do. And if I wasn’t so... ruined, I guess he would be my type. I'm not going to break something up that works until I know if Deac is for real.”
“But how will you know that if you’re with someone else?” Abbie asks. She still hasn’t looked up from her menu.
“I just will. It feels like something’s holding him back. And I can't tell him how I feel until I know what it is.”
“You just need to figure it out. There are three people in this little triangle of yours who could get hurt. None of you deserve it.”
We say our goodbyes and I know everything they’ve said tonight is right. There isn’t one thing they’ve said where me being a coward hasn’t been the answer.
So I’m sitting in the driver’s seat of my Fiat, with my weekend bag in the back, a bottle of wine, my uni blankie (the only thing I’ve salvaged from my flat) and a DVD on the seat next to me. And I’m in a pink fluffy onesie of Abbie’s over the top of my usual shorts and vest ensemble. I’ve never understood them myself; I don't get why people would wear pyjamas that you have to take right off when you need the toilet. It’s just not rational.
But it’s cold and dark; I need something cosy on the lonely two hour drive back home; and Abbie’s pink one piece with bunny ears and a bunny tail at the back is the perfect companion. I’m tempted to talk to the bunny; see if I any get any sense out of my loan pj’s, but obviously there is no intelligent conversation or insight to be had there, so I opt for my old P!nk album, to try to conjure up a little girl power. This isn’t going to be an easy conversation.
At exactly ten thirty I pull up on Deacon’s driveway and climb out, taking my blanket, movie and wine with me.
The lights are on in the house, so I know he’s in. The only other cars on the drive are his, but I pray he hasn’t got a girl here.
I knock on the door and wait for an answer. After what feels like forever, he finally answers and I can tell he hasn’t long finished work; he’s still wearing his suit trousers and shirt, every button undone showcasing his incredible stomach, and the happy trail that disappears into the waistband of his trousers.
“Jenna?”
“Yes. I know it’s late. I know I didn’t tell you I was coming, and I’m sorry if you have company. But I don't like things being like this and you’re right. We should talk.”
Chapter 21
Deacon
“Come in.”
I push the door open and Jenna
ducks unnecessarily under my arm and into the house. She heads straight for the kitchen, flicks the kettle on and joins me back in the living room.
“You haven’t got anyone here?” She asks, looking at her feet, “I don’t want to interrupt.”
“You’re the only one.”
She blinks, keeping her eyes closed a second too long as the relief washes over her. I bite my top lip, stopping myself from saying something I’ll regret. How can she still think I would have a girl here?
“You make tea, I’ll set up.” She smiles and shoos me into the kitchen.
“Set up for what?”
“You’ll see.”
She shuts the kitchen door once I'm inside and I quickly make the tea, eager to know why she’s so happy and playful when she was anything but pleased to hear from me last night. I was convinced it was the worst night of my life all over again.
I finish the tea and take it out to her. She’s kneeling down at the DVD player and she’s taken off the pink thing she was wearing when she came in. Now she’s wearing blue pyjama shorts and a white vest; once again, I don't think I’ve ever seen her look so... perfect.
It feels like it’s been forever since our night together and remembering everything about that night; the way she begged me for more, screamed my name, and matched me thrust for thrust, is all that’s getting me through every day.
“Deac, you with me?”
I blink, remembering I’m supposed to be respecting Jenna and her confusion, when all I want to do is have my way with her up against the wall, or on the sofa, or up against the glass doors; that would be hot.
“Yeah,” I rush to put the cups down, “I need to change.”
She opens her mouth to speak, but I just turn and head up the stairs. I need a minute.
I go back downstairs in some tracksuit shorts and an old t-shirt. Jenna is curled up on the sofa, under her old blanket that she had at uni, the main menu for ‘There’s Something About Mary’ on the TV.
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